


You Send Me

by writerchick0214



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone else is the same, F/M, M/M, Phil is a social worker, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerchick0214/pseuds/writerchick0214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson doesn't see himself as anything but average; he wakes up every day, puts on his suit, and goes to work. While he loves his job as a social worker he doesn't think there is anything particularly special about his life. </p>
<p>That is, until he meets Clint Barton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Avengers fanfiction, so please be kind. 
> 
> I don't know much about being a social worker. All of my information comes from research on the internet, so if things aren't 100% accurate that's why. Any cases I may include in the story are NOT based off actual events. 
> 
> HUGE thanks to my new beta, Crocochoo. You're amazing!

           Phil smiled at Pepper as she walked over, grabbing a flute of champagne from the server as he passed by. Pepper looked elegant in a sleek black dress with an exposed back, strawberry hair pulled up into a sophisticated bun. Heads turned as she walked, men and women alike eyeing her from head to toe, and even though Phil was certain she noticed, he also knew she was too modest to acknowledge their glances. With a perfectly manicured hand, Pepper took a glass of champagne from the same server Phil had, stopping when her elbow brushed his.

            “Phil,” She greeted warmly, leaning in to brush a kiss on the apple of his cheek.

            “How are you, Pepper?” Phil asked, sipping his bubbly drink. He didn’t want to think about how expensive each bottle probably was.

            “I’m great,” Pepper answered, nodding at a gentleman Phil didn’t recognize, “And you? Still married to your work?”

            Phil chuckled, “You’re one to talk, Miss Potts. I hear Tony made you CEO.”

            “Well,” Pepper began with a wide grin, “I _was_ doing all the work already, but I do appreciate the raise.”

            People conversed around them; the ballroom at Stark Tower – Avengers Tower now, Phil had to remind himself – was full to capacity with all of the wealthiest people Tony knew. While Phil had only met Tony a handful of times, he and Pepper were long-time friends.

            “This is a great turn out,” Phil complimented, looking around at the crowd.

            “Best one yet, I think,” Pepper replied, “Tony really went all out this year.”

            “You have no idea how much we appreciate this, Pepper,” Phil told his friend quietly, “How much _I_ appreciate it. The money you raise every year provides the company the recourses it needs to make a real difference.”

            “Oh, Phil,” Pepper smiled softly, laying a gentle hand on the crook of his elbow, “Given how much you love your job and those kids, doing this is the least I can do. Besides, you know Tony loves any excuse for a party.”

            As if on cue, Tony Stark made his grand entrance wearing a suit that probably cost more than Phil’s yearly salary and sunglasses much too dark for the dim lighting in the room. He waved obnoxiously at a group of men and continued on, shaking hands with random people and drinking two flutes of champagne before he even made it to Pepper. Tony leaned in to kiss Pepper with a hand low on her back and Phil had to turn away at the sight, clearing his throat awkwardly.

            “Coulson, Man of the Hour!” Tony greeted, shaking Phil’s hand eagerly, clapping him on the shoulder at the same time.

            “Mr. Stark.” Phil countered, nodding his head.

            “I need to borrow Pepper, if you don’t mind?” Tony was grinning widely, guiding her away even as he spoke.

            “I’ll make sure to find you later, Phil.” Pepper grinned at him.

            As they walked away, Phil grew increasingly uncomfortable as he once again realized the only people he knew were his coworkers, all of whom he was only casually acquainted with despite the long hours spent at the office.  Phil walked to the bar and ordered a glass of scotch and tried not to think about how expensive it was as he took his first sip, savoring the spicy burn.

Standing up straight Phil adjusted his tie, took another sip and made his way out of the ballroom to escape the mindless chatter and soft, lulling music. Avengers Tower looked different than Stark Tower had a year ago, before the Chitauri invasion. The lobby was grander, hallways bigger and everything still had its new glow. A security guard eyed Phil momentarily before seemingly recognizing him with a curt tip of his head.

            Phil wandered down a hallways he was fairly certain hadn’t been there the year before, poking his head into any door that happened to be open. The only people that seemed to be in the tower were employees; cleaners, security, and the occasional person in a white lab coat.

            A ' _dinging_ ' sound caught Phil’s attention as he rounded a corner, finding an unoccupied elevator. Curious and not wanting to go back to the event Phil entered and pushed a random button, relaxing slightly against the cool, metal wall.

            When the elevator finally stopped, Phil exited and took in his surroundings. It appeared to be a common area but with no privacy codes and rental scans, Phil assumed it was built for the public and not anyone who resided in the tower. There were couches and cafeteria tables, Plasma televisions scattered throughout. On the opposite side of the room there was a fully functioning kitchen and two stainless steel refrigerators. It was blissfully quiet and void of people and Phil instantly sunk into one of the plush leather couches, resting an ankle on the opposite knee. Phil basked in the calm, sipping from his tumbler of scotch.

            “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was up here.” Phil jumped at the voice, whipping around to find a man leaning against the doorway.

            The man had dirty blonde hair that was attractively disheveled and broad shoulders to compliment his narrow waist. When the stranger crossed his arms over his chest, Phil didn’t miss the way the black t-shirt stretched over his biceps.

            “It’s no problem,” Phil finally said, “I just needed to get away…”

            The man hummed, “You one of those Big Whigs at the benefit, then?”

Phil could tell he was being mocked.

            “Ah, no...” Phil shook his head adamantly, “I work for the OCFS.”

            “Oh.”

            The man said looking momentarily dumbfounded. He stood a little straighter, unfolding his arms, “So you’re a social worker then?”

            “Yes, I’ve been working there for more than ten years now.” Phil took another sip of his scotch, tilting his head back in exhaustion.

            “You any good at your job?” The stranger asked and when Phil looked at him he was mildly surprised to see uncertainty in those eyes.

            “I try to be.” Phil said simply. “I’m Phil, by the way.”

            “Clint.” The man stated.

            “Nice to meet you, Clint.”

            Clint walked to one of the fridges in the corner and withdrew a beer bottle, popping the top off on the marble counter top. After taking a few sips, Clint opened his mouth to speak but closed it again and Phil turned to look at him more intently. Clint wore all black, his cargo pants tucked into a pair of combat boots. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat as if he had been working out.

            “So, what are you doing up here?” Clint asked, walking closer. “Isn’t the party to raise money for your company?”

            “Honestly?”

            Clint gestured at the couch, a silent request to sit. Phil waved his hand and was happy when Clint turned on the cushion to face him, sprawled out comfortably in the corner. “I can’t stand events like these. I don’t like crowds, and the only people I know are my co-workers and Pepper.”

            “Pepper Potts?” Clint inquired.

            “That’s right,” Phil nodded, finishing his drink, “Miss Potts and I have known each other for years. We met long before she met Tony Stark, though I always knew she would rule the world one day.”

            “Well, how did you two meet?” Clint drank from his bottle, smirking, “Did you used to date?”

            “Pepper and I?” Phil grinned a little, just a slight turn of his lips. “No, definitely not. I actually met her through my ex. He was a few years younger than me and had a class with Pepper; introduced us at a party.”

            “' _He_ '?” Clint sat up a little straighter, extending his arm along the back of the couch.

            Phil blushed.

            “ _His_ name was Derek. Pepper actually hated him but they knew the same people, so when we met she wasn’t afraid to tell me how she felt about him. We hit it off immediately. Despite Derek and I not working out, I was glad because I met Pepper.”

            “You want a beer?” Clint asked, nodding at the empty glass in Phil’s hand.

            Clint stood and went back to the refrigerator without waiting for Phil’s answer, finishing his beer as he reached for two more. Once again he opened them against the counter. “So you and Pepper are close?”

            “I like to think so. I started working for the OCFS and then she started working for Stark, so we saw less of each other. Thank you,” Phil gratefully took the drink, pleased by the dark caramel flavor. Clint settled down again, this time a little closer. “This is the first time I’ve seen her since she started working with the Avengers.”

            Clint was eyeing him curiously, his gaze heavy enough to make Phil fidget uncomfortably. Phil cleared his throat.

            “The tower looks great, since he took them in. Did you see it when it was just Stark Tower?”

            “No, I can’t say that I did. I saw it right after the Chitauri attack and it was a mess.”

            “I can imagine!” Phil exclaimed, relaxing more into the couch, “I heard Hulk did some serious damage.”

            “There was a nice hole in the ground!” Clint laughed, the sound loud in the quiet room and so pleasing Phil couldn’t help but stare. His head was thrown back, mouth open, looking completely at ease. When he calmed down their eyes met and Phil felt his breath catch in his throat. Clint beamed at him, his smile all teeth.

            When Phil reached up to adjust his tie, Clint leaned in, brushing his fingers against his cufflinks. “Are those Captain America shields?”

            “I – Yes,” Phil stammered, tripping over his words when Clint’s rough fingers caressed the bare skin of his wrist, “I’ve been a Captain America fan since I was a kid. It’s honestly kind of embarrassing. Pepper calls me a _fanboy,_ for God’s sake!”

            “I could introduce you to him?” Clint offered casually, sipping his beer with a cocky grin, “You know, if you want?”

            “You could what?” Phil tried to not let himself grow too excited by the offer. “How could you do that?”

            Clint regarded him for a moment, smirk still in place. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

            “No, I’m sorry...” Phil paused to look at Clint again, trying to figure out if he _did_ know him, “...Should I?”

            “This is really kind of amazing,” Clint looked pleased and moved closer still, “Refreshing, even. Clint Barton – also known as Hawkeye – at your service.”

            Phil’s jaw dropped before he could stop it and instantly he felt foolish; he had been flirting shamelessly with an Avenger without even knowing it! He tried to shift away but with the arm on the back of the couch and at his side he had nowhere to go.

            “Don’t start acting weird now. I was just about to ask you out to dinner.”

            “You were what?” Phil almost squeaked, feeling heat rise up his neck.

            “Please don’t tell me I was reading the signs wrong?” Clint began, all humor and ease gone from his face. He suddenly looked unsure, and much younger than he had a moment ago.

            “No, you weren’t! I mean, I was – am! – definitely interested,” Phil was stumbling over his words, “I was actually going to ask _you_ out. But you’re, _You_ , and I’m just…me.”

            “Just because you found out I’m Hawkeye doesn’t make me a different person than I was five minutes ago; and so far I like _you_ , so how about we go out Saturday night? You know, as long as the world isn’t ending and I don’t get called into work.” Clint’s smile was infectious.

            Phil didn’t say anything at first, mind reeling.

            Clint was younger and very attractive, far too good-looking for a balding, middle-aged man like himself, and an Avenger to boot, and yet he was determined to take Phil out on a date! Phil, who was married to his work and hadn’t been on a date in so long, it was too embarrassing to admit even to himself.

            Clint seemed sweet, albeit a little rough around the edges, and Phil had felt an instant connection, so he found himself saying yes with a ridiculous smile and dizzy head. Phil gave Clint his business card and watched him stand, hopeful and anxious all at once.

            “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Clint promised as he accepted the card.

            Before he could lose his nerve, Phil quickly got to his feet to stop Clint from leaving, his hand gripping Clint’s bicep. Anxious, Phil leaned in and kissed Clint's cheek, enjoying the slight scruff and the fact that they were almost the same height. He was typically taller than his partners even though he wasn’t particularly tall himself. Clint beamed at him, reaching up to grasp the hand around his arm. Phil was taken aback by how large and broad Clint’s hands were and he found himself staring at their joined fingers.

            “Have a good night.” Was all Phil said as he watched Clint leave.

            Pepper was never going to believe him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so...it's been 2 months. I am very, very sorry. First I just couldn't write, and then I had some issues with my full-time job, and then finals. But, I'm currently working about 35 less hours a week, so more time for writing! 
> 
> The next chapter will be up some time next week. My dad is visiting for the weekend, so as soon as he's gone I'll put the finishing touches on the chapter and send it off to my BETA.

Clint didn’t call the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that.

A week came and went without hearing from Clint, Phil laughed at himself for thinking he stood a chance. So he buried himself in work to distract from how disappointed he was.

Phil was alone, cleaning crew long gone and he was grateful for the silence. His cubicle was cramped and full of files and folder after folder of children he was trying to help. More often than not Phil found himself at the office after his coworkers left, staying until the sun was set and dinner had come and gone. Wednesday nights weren’t typically overly busy at work, in an attempt to cast Clint from his mind, Phil watched the clock strike eleven, the latest he had stayed in years. Vibrating confused Phil before he realized it was his phone, which was buried somewhere amongst his pile of paperwork. Fumbling, Phil tried to rifle through the stacks of books and papers, carefully arranging the manila folders out of the way until he saw the glowing screen of his phone. An unknown number was flashing but Phil answered anyways, heart thudding in his chest.

“Phil Coulson,” he answered professionally.

“Oh, hey,” a familiar voice said, “I thought I was going to get your voicemail. It’s uh, it’s Clint, by the way.”

“Hello, Clint. I was starting to think you weren’t going to call.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just,” Clint sighed and Phil waited patiently for him to continue, “I don’t do this a lot. Dating, I mean. I’ve never had much luck, and I kind of thought you’d say no when I called.”

“Clint, I already said yes.”

Clint took a deep breath, the sound loud in the silence, “Right.”

Phil, feeling much more confident and heartened by Clint’s nervousness, asked, “Are you free Friday night?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Clint replied quickly, almost before Phil had even finished his sentence, “I am. What did you have in mind?”

“There’s this little Italian Bistro on 52nd I’ve been going to for years.”

“52nd?” Clint laughed, “Isn’t that a little off the beaten path?”

“You laugh now,” Phil said, “but you won’t be once you eat their food. They have the best pasta in the city.”

 “I’ll have to trust you. What should I wear?”

“Jeans and a decent shirt will be fine.”

“Great. I’ll be there.” There was a pause in the conversation and Phil was about to hang up when Clint blurted, “What are you doing right now?”

Phil glanced pathetically around his cubicle, decorated only with an old wartime poster of Captain America and a picture of his nephews, “I’m at work.”

“ _Still_?” Clint was laughing. “Pepper wasn’t joking when she said you worked all the time.”

“You were talking to Pepper about me?” Phil asked, pleasantly surprised.

Pepper hadn’t mentioned that.

“I- Maybe.” Pause. “Go home, Phil. Get some sleep.”

Phil sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.” He stood, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder. “I’ll see you Friday?”

“Seven o’clock sharp. G’night, Phil.”

“Goodnight, Clint.”

The line went dead.

* * *

 

Phil stood there, bewildered, for a long while, not believing the conversation had just happened. Suddenly feeling exhausted, Phil packed his things and left, walking to the subway.

Phil practically ran out the door, only pausing to drop his briefcase in his cubicle -he’d never went home without it in his entire career- and to check his appearance in the bathroom mirror. It was almost seven already and the Bistro was still a four block walk away but Phil couldn’t bring himself to run so he pulled out his phone while he walked briskly, texting Clint that he would be a little late, but was on his way. Before entering the building, Phil tugged down his suit jacket and straightened his tie, picking off a piece of lint that had stuck itself to his elbow.

“Good evening, Mr. Coulson,” The hostess, Rebecca, greeted, “Your usual table?”

“I’m actually meeting someone,” Phil replied, scanning the restaurant for Clint, “He should be here already.”

She smiled knowingly, “Blonde hair, about your height?”

“That’s him.”

“Right this way.” She glanced back at him over her shoulder as they walked, “I gave you two a lovely table in the back so you could have some privacy.”

Phil forced himself not to blush.

Clint was sprawled on his chair, arm slung along the back, other hand bringing a glass of water up to his lips to sip. As soon as Phil was within earshot Clint’s head snapped up, eyes zeroing in on Phil’s position even as he jumped to his feet. The hostess left with another smile, and Phil couldn’t help but look Clint up and down. He was wearing dark, slim-cut jeans and a deep purple button down that clung to his arms in the best way possible. Phil raised an eyebrow at the black converse and Clint smirked, shuffling his feet playfully.

Phil found the whole thing impossible endearing.

“You look great,” Clint said, stealing Phil’s words right out of his mouth. “Are you sure I’m not underdressed?” He asked skeptically, eyeing Phil’s suit.

“Oh, no,” Phil unbuttoned his jacket, sweeping it behind as he sat, “I _always_ wear a suit. You’re perfect.”

Clint beamed and sat, reaching for his menu. “I thought you weren’t coming,” Clint admitted, staring at the beer section.

Phil faltered, taking in the faintest downturn of Clint’s lips, “I’m sorry. I texted you; work went later than I had expected.”

“I put my phone on silent.” Clint said, looking up with a chuckle, “My friends are nosy. I didn’t want to deal with Stark texting me the entire time.”

“What if you need to work?” Phil suddenly remembered he was out with an _Avenger_.

Clint laughed, “Trust me, if they _really_ need me, Stark could hack this thing in a second. But let’s hope the world doesn’t need saving tonight, yeah?”

Conversation lulled while they examined their menus; Phil knew what he wanted, down to the wine, but he reread his choices so Clint didn’t feel rushed. Clint was squinting at the words, concentrating before he huffed and rubbed his face. His brows were pinched together in what appeared to be frustration and his cheeks were pink when he peeked at Phil before looking back at the Entrée menu. Phil was about to ask if everything was alright when a waitress Phil didn’t recognize came over and asked for their drink orders.

                        “Do you like wine?” Phil asked Clint. At Clint’s affirmative nod, Phil turned back to the waitress, “Can we please have a bottle of the Chianti?”

            “Of course.” She replied, looking between the two, “Anything else I can get for you gentleman?”

            “I think that’s about it,” Clint said.

            “I’ll be back with your drinks in just a moment,” The waitress said and then walked away.

            The restaurant was slowly beginning to fill with the dinner rush, a few of them glancing curious in their direction, most likely trying to figure out why Clint seemed vaguely familiar, but Phil was grateful no one seemed to be able to put a name to the face, though the waitress had eyed Clint for longer than necessary. Clint was staring intently at his menu once again before setting it down, leaning back casually in his seat.

            “It smells delicious in here,” Clint commented, looking around.

            The restaurant was small, almost cramped but still comfortable, and the kitchen was in plain view of the dining room. Phil enjoyed being able to smell whatever the chef was cooking except for when they prepared fish, because it filled the entire place with a slightly unpleasant scent. Candles adorned every table, and most of the seating arrangements were for two, save for a few larger tables in the back. It was intimate, more for dates than family outings.

            “So how’d you find this place?” Clint asked.

            “It’s only a few blocks from my office,” Phil answered, unable to keep his gaze from Clint’s lips, “I walked by it one day during my lunch and I’ve been coming back ever since. The head chef is from Italy, and all the recipes are his great grandmothers.”

            “How long have you been coming here?”

            Phil blushed, “A few years now. Most of the staff know me by name, though I’ve never actually brought anyone with me.”

            “Well,” Clint propped his elbows on the table and leaned in towards Phil, “I feel honored.”

            “Here you are gentleman,” The waitress returned, setting a straw-enclosed bottle in the middle of the table and two large, deep wine glasses in front of each of them.

            Phil decided not to comment on the fact that she didn’t pour their first glass, which was house policy.

            “Are you two ready to order?”

            “Do you want an appetizer, Clint? The muscles marinara are amazing. I get them every time I’m here.”

            “I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me,” Clint chuckled, handing his menu to the waitress without taking his eyes off of Phil.

            Phil couldn’t help but be flattered.

            “We’ll have an order of that, then,” Phil told the waitress, “And I’ll have the fresh Pappardelle.”

            “And for you, sir?” She asked Clint.

            “I think I’ll have the Gnocchi.”

            “Will that be all?”

            “Yes, please. Thank you,” Phil added as she walked away.

            “Back in the circus,” Clint began and Phil was instantly entranced, surprised that Clint was bringing up his past; publicly he was extremely private and seldom discussed his time before the Avengers, “The Bearded Lady would make Gnocchi every Thursday night. We didn’t have proper kitchens, and she hated the cramped stoves in the trailers, so she always did it over the open fire. I don’t even think she was Italian, but I remember how good it was, and that she’d always save me an extra helping.”

            Clint had a nostalgic look on his face, chin propped in the palm of his hand.

            “Well, I hope the Gnocchi here can live up to those expectations.”

 

            Clint’s entire face lit up and Phil found it momentarily hard to breathe.  

           

* * *

           The initial dinner rush was winding down but Phil and Clint were still seated comfortably, plates cleared from the table and a second bottle of wine opened. Phil was pouring Clint’s glass and laughing at something that wasn’t really all that funny, yet the two of them couldn’t stop chuckling. Clint reached over slowly, circling Phil’s wrist with his hand, tugging gently. Phil couldn’t tear his eyes away from Clint’s hand, mesmerized by how broad and strong they looked, pleased by the sensation of the work-roughened skin on his own.

            “So,” Clint said casually, linking their fingers, “What are you doing after this?”

            For just a second Phil couldn’t find words, eyes fixated on their joined hands. Finally he answered, “I was planning on walking you to your car and then going home to my cat.”

            “Your cat?” Clint’s head tilted to the side and Phil couldn’t help but think it was adorable.

            Phil hummed, nodding his head, “His name is Cap.”

            Clint snorted, ducking his head when Phil glared.

            “Not a word,” Phil demanded, squeezing Clint’s hand good-naturedly, “I named him before Captain America came back from the dead.”

            Clint threw his head back with a laugh that shook his whole body, the skin around his eyes crinkling in a way that made him look both young and mature at the same time. The waitress brought their check and set it between them silently, Phil snatching it even as Clint went to grab the black envelope. Clint protested, making to take it back, but Phil shushed him, placing his credit card in the slot before handing it back to the smiling waitress.

            “ _I_ asked _you_ ,” Clint reminded, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “Yes, but I picked the restaurant. You can get the next one.”

            “So there’s going to be a next time?” Clint asked slyly, looking pleased. 

            The corner of Phil’s lips turned up as he signed the bill, not answering immediately.

            “Unless I’m reading things wrong,” Phil finally said, leaving a hefty tip, “I most certainly think there’s going to be a next time.”

            “Awesome,” Clint stretched his arms above his head, “Wanna get out of here?”

            Phil looked around, “And go where, exactly?”

            “Want dessert?” Clint asked as he stood, pulling Phil to his feet, “I know a place that has the _best_ apple pie you will ever eat.”

              “That sounds great.”

            They walked side by side, their hands bumping occasionally but when Clint made no moves to hold his hand Phil decided against it, content to just be close to the other man. It was dark now, the sun long set, and the air was mild. The streets were still crowded but not overly so, the day rush gone and the night rush not yet out. Clint talked a lot when he was excited about something, delighted when Phil asked him about the bow he was currently using (Phil had seen Hawkeye’s bows continuously change and be upgraded, and was understandably curious).

            “Mom!” A young child yelled, pulling his flustered mother behind him, “It’s him! Look, mom, it’s Hawkeye!”

            “I am _so_ sorry!” The mother said, trying to pull her son back from where he was hugging Clint’s legs.

            “It’s fine, ma’am,” Clint chuckled, bending down to one knee so he was eye level with the kid, “I don’t mind.”

              “You’re Hawkeye, right?” The child gushed, grabbing one of Clint’s hands in his own.

            “I sure am,” Clint said, shaking the kid’s hand, “but you can call me Clint.”           

            “Hi, Mr. Clint; my name is Joseph.”

            “Nice to meet you, Joseph.”

            “You’re my favorite Avenger! All of my friends like Iron Man and Captain America, but I think that you’re so cool!”

            “This one likes Captain America, too,” Clint laughed, jerking his head in Phil’s direction.

            “All he has is a stupid shield.” Joseph defended Clint, eyes narrowing at Phil, “You use a bow and you climb all the buildings. _Way_ better than Captain America.”

            “Hear that, Phil?” Clint asked, standing to go back to Phil’s side, “I’m _way better_ than Captain America.”

            “Yeah,” Phil replied, feeling completely enamored with the moment, “You are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The place they go to eat is loosely based off of a real place is NYC. 
> 
> I've been to NYC but I don't live there, so any places they go to are mostly made up. I don't know my way around realistically. 
> 
> Also, any and all information involving Phil's workplace and his job was found on the internet. I am not a social worker.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and let me know what you think. Comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are all welcome. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, Marvel owns the rights to these people. The title comes from the song "You Send Me" by Same Cooke. 
> 
> http://youtu.be/pX6QlnlMqjE


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